Get Well Soon, Mallory! Read online

  Before things got too out of hand, Mary Anne said firmly, “It’s not a rat. It’s just a little tiny field mouse that’s hungry and came into the barn.”

  Becca looked less disgusted. “Poor little mouse,” she murmured. “Let’s get it something to eat.”

  Kristy arrived just then. She had brought David Michael, Karen, and the Korman kids with her.

  “Hi, everybody!” Kristy called. “Are you ready to put on your thinking caps?”

  “Yes!” Buddy bellowed.

  Jessi could only shrug. “At least he’s enthusiastic,” she said, laughing.

  The next few minutes were spent arranging bales of hay in a semi-circle and directing everyone to sit on them. Jessi sat with two-year-old Marnie Barrett in her lap and five-year-old Suzi at her side. Nicky and Buddy squeezed in between Jessi and Logan.

  “I’d like to welcome you all to the first official meeting of the Thanksgiving Project,” Kristy said, stepping onto an old milk crate in front of the group of kids. “This is really an exciting project. Our hope is to bring a lot of happiness to the people at Stoneybrook Manor.”

  “My dad’s uncle Joe lives there,” Nicky spoke up.

  “That’s right.” Kristy smiled. “And we’re going to visit him in less than two weeks. We’d like to bring goody baskets with us.”

  “What kinds of goodies?” Marilyn Arnold asked.

  “We thought we’d put in fruit and maybe some chocolates, but we can put in other things. Do you guys have any suggestions?”

  “You could give them presents,” Melody Korman said.

  “Trucks and dinosaurs!” Buddy shouted.

  Kristy listened while Mary Anne wrote down everything in a notebook.

  “How about pictures?” Carolyn Arnold suggested. “We just got our school pictures back and we have a ton left over.”

  Bill Korman scratched his head. “Hey, if we gave them our pictures, we could make frames for them.”

  “Out of construction paper?” David Michael asked.

  Bill shook his head. “No. We’d build them out of wood.”

  Charlotte whispered an idea to Stacey (I guess she’s still a little shy in groups). “Charlotte thinks we should put in books since they probably have a lot of time to read,” Stacey said.

  “Paperback books aren’t too expensive. We could even get them at a used bookstore,” Jessi suggested.

  “And for those who can’t see well, we should buy books on tape,” Mary Anne added.

  Kristy nodded. “That brings me to the subject of fundraising. We need to earn enough money to buy these books and tapes and fruits and candies. Mallory suggested we hold a car wash. How many of you would be interested in working on that?”

  All of the kids raised their hands (even Marnie, who had been busy sticking bits of straw in her hair).

  The idea of squirting cars with a hose sounded awfully appealing to Buddy. “Could we wear our bathing suits?”

  “In November?” Mary Anne gasped. “You’d freeze.”

  Claudia nodded. “Mary Anne’s got a point. Maybe a car wash isn’t such a great idea. You could all come down with pneumonia.”

  Kristy tugged on the bill of her baseball cap. “If we don’t have a car wash, then we’d better come up with something else. It’ll probably cost a lot of money to put together these baskets.”

  “I’ll donate my allowance,” Karen offered.

  “Me, too!” Nicky and Margo agreed.

  “Me, three,” said Buddy.

  Suddenly all the kids were talking about pooling their money.

  Mary Anne looked as if she were about to cry. “Oh, you guys,” she said. “This is so sweet.”

  “You know, we do have some money in the club treasury,” Stacey said. “It’s not a lot, but if we combined it with the kids’ allowances, and then kicked in a little extra from our baby-sitting jobs, we might have enough to buy some things.”

  “Mallory suggested we get sponsors for the baskets,” Jessie added. “We could start by asking our parents and clients if they’d like to become a sponsor.”

  “How much would it cost to be one?” Logan asked.

  Jessi shrugged. “How does five dollars sound?”

  Kristy consulted her clipboard. “There are fifty-five residents at Stoneybrook Manor. I wonder if we can come up with that many sponsors.”

  Claire shook her head. “I don’t even know fifty-five people.”

  “If a grocery store donated the fruit and candy, or at least gave us a discount,” Logan suggested, “then the baskets wouldn’t cost so much.”

  “Cool!” Stacey said. “Why doesn’t every member of the BSC talk to a grocery store, then report in on Monday?”

  “Good suggestion,” Kristy said. “Which brings me to the last piece of business. Our program.”

  “Do we have to dress up like turkeys?” Buddy asked. “My school is making me dress up like a turkey and I hate it.”

  “No.” Kristy laughed. “We don’t have to dress up like turkeys. But we should do something fun.”

  “Playing games is fun,” Suzi exclaimed. “And carnivals are fun.”

  Buddy turned to his sister and rolled his eyes. “Old people don’t want to play games or go to carnivals.”

  “Why not?” Suzi asked.

  “Because … well, because they’re old,” Buddy replied.

  Mary Anne sat up straight. “You know what? I think Suzi has come up with a brilliant idea. Why not put together a Thanksgiving funhouse?”

  “What do you mean?” Kristy asked. “Like a haunted house?”

  Mary Anne shook her head. “More like the carnival Suzi was talking about. Every year the people at Stoneybrook Manor sit in chairs and watch groups of people parade in and out, singing songs or doing skits for them. But do they ever get to do anything themselves? No.”

  Kristy’s eyes widened. “I get it. We set up a carnival with booths, and let them have fun.”

  “We can have a cakewalk, and a bean bag throw,” Mary Anne continued.

  “A softball throw,” Kristy added.

  “A fishing booth,” Byron said. “I’ve always liked that one.”

  Logan snapped his fingers. “Everything could have a Thanksgiving theme. Like, throw-the-beanbag-in-the-Pilgrim’s-mouth. And pin-the-feather-on-the-turkey.”

  Charlotte turned to Stacey and giggled. “This sounds like fun.”

  “We could make the booths right here,” Mary Anne said, “in our barn. In fact, we could start tomorrow.”

  Logan leaned over Mary Anne’s shoulder. “Put me down to head the work crew.”

  “Now, then.” Kristy scratched her head. “What would we give as prizes?”

  Suzi Barrett thrust her hand in the air. “Cookies.”

  “I’ll be in charge of the baking,” Claudia said. “We could make pumpkin- and turkey-shaped cookies, and decorate them.”

  Kristy flopped down on the milk crate and stared out at the group of kids. “Phew. Baking, building carnival booths, raising money, and decorating baskets — that’s a lot of work. We only have twelve days. Can we do it?”

  There was a moment of silence. Then a huge cheer echoed through the barn. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  After the official meeting ended, the chatter continued. The kids vowed to do extra cleanup jobs to earn more allowance. Bill Korman swore that not only would his parents be sponsors, so would both sets of grandparents.

  “Let’s see, that’s six times five …” Bill did the multiplication in his head, then looked up happily and announced to the barn in general, “That’s thirty dollars just from my family alone!”

  While the kids talked, Jessi pulled a sheet of paper from her notebook and hurriedly wrote the following note:

  Claudia had gathered Becca, Margo, and Vanessa together and was just leaving the barn when Jessi stopped them.

  “Margo, wait up!” Jessi cried, waving her note in the air. “Can you please give this to Mallory?”

  Margo held out her hand. �
�What is it?”

  “It’s a list of ways Mallory can help our project without ever leaving her bed.”

  “I’ll be sure and give it to her,” Margo said, carefully tucking the note in her coat pocket. “I promise.”

  Jessi thanked her, then turned to look for the Barrett kids. Buddy was perched on the ladder leading to the hayloft, clutching a rope that hung from a hook in the rafters.

  “Watch this, Jessi,” he called merrily. “I’m Tarzan.”

  “I’m the baby-sitter!” Jessi shouted back. “And I say let go of that rope before I have a heart attack.”

  Buddy let go reluctantly. “Aw, Jessi,” he grumbled. “I never get to have any fun.”

  Jessi helped him down the ladder, then scooped Marnie up in one arm and took Suzi’s hand with the other. “Come on. Why don’t we play follow-the-leader on the way home? Buddy, you can be the leader.”

  “All right!” Buddy squatted down in front of Jessi and the girls. “The leader says, hop like a frog!”

  Jessi winced. “Oh, boy.”

  The four of them hopped the entire way back to the Barrett house.

  While everybody was meeting at Mary Anne’s barn, I lay in bed worrying about the BSC. Kristy and the others were already feeling the strain of having to take extra sitting jobs. How would they feel in two months? They’d probably hate me. I just couldn’t let that happen. And I knew if I tried to quit, they wouldn’t let me. So the only way to remain friends with everyone was to get them to kick me out of the club so they could replace me. But how?

  Before I could think of a solution, Claudia appeared at my bedroom door with Margo and Claire. “Hi, Mal,” she said. “We’re back from Mary Anne’s.”

  “How did it go?” I asked.

  Claud sat on a chair across the room from me. “It was better than anybody expected. We had a million great suggestions, and now we have a million projects to finish in twelve days.”

  “We’re going to give a Thanksgiving Carnival for the old people,” Claire announced as she climbed onto my bed. “So they can have fun.”

  “With games and prizes for everybody,” Margo added.

  “What about the goody baskets?” I asked.

  “We’re doing those, too,” Claudia said. “And we’re trying to raise money to pay for everything.”

  “Wow,” I exclaimed. “That is a lot of stuff to do.”

  “Oh,” Margo said. “I almost forgot.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to me. “This is from Jessi. It’s a list of things you can do for the Thanksgiving Project.”

  “Oh?” As I stared at Jessi’s list, I realized that this was my opportunity to show the BSC the mistake they’d made by keeping me in the club. It took every ounce of willpower I could muster to do it.

  First I frowned. Then I tossed the note at my bedside table. “Maybe I don’t feel like doing anything. I am sick, you know,” I said in a grumpy voice.

  Claudia’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, Mallory, we know you’re sick. But I think Jessi had the impression that you wanted to help on this project.”

  I shrugged and, flopping my head back on my pillows, stared at the ceiling. “Maybe I do and maybe I don’t.”

  I couldn’t see Claudia or Margo, but I could tell by their silence that they were shooting each other I-don’t-understand looks. My plan was working.

  Finally Claudia cleared her throat. “Well, I guess I should let you get some sleep,” she said, standing up.

  “Thanks,” I murmured. “I do feel pretty tired.” Then I added, “Tell Jessi I’ll try to find time to look at her list later.”

  “Yeah. Sure,” Claudia said, backing out of the room. “But if you can’t, don’t worry about it. See you later.”

  Margo and Claire escorted her to the front door. After everyone had left my room, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. It was hard being so hateful. Every part of me wanted to shout, “I’m just kidding. I really want to help!” But I knew that what I was doing was for the best.

  I reached for Jessi’s note but before I had a chance to look at it, Margo was back at my door.

  “Boy, Mallory, you really were mean to Claudia.”

  “I wasn’t mean,” I said, crossing my fingers under the covers. “I was just being honest.”

  “We need people to make phone calls to grocery store owners.”

  “So?”

  “So that’s something you could do. You’re just lying around in bed.”

  “The doctor and Mom and Dad told me to cut out all extra activities. That is definitely an extra activity.”

  “Boy, oh, boy,” Margo said, shaking her head sadly. “I thought you were a nice person.”

  “Well, you thought wrong.” I rolled over and faced the wall because I couldn’t bear looking at the hurt on Margo’s face. Getting kicked out of the club was going to be harder on me than I had thought.

  On Sunday, Jessi dropped by for a visit. She was carrying two videotapes and an armload of horse books that she’d gotten for me at the library. “Here, I thought you needed some entertainment. If you’re too tired to read then you can watch The Black Stallion or National Velvet.” (Two of my favorite movies.)

  “Thanks, Jessi,” I said, eagerly reaching for the books and movies. “That’s really thoughtful.”

  “Did you get my list for the Thanksgiving project?” she asked.

  I guessed she hadn’t talked to Claudia or Margo.

  “Yeah. I looked at it,” I said.

  “What do you think? I wrote down a lot of things you’d be able to do that would really help us out.”

  “Well …” I took a long, long pause. It’s hard to act like a jerk with your best friend. Especially when she just brought you presents. “Can’t you make those phone calls?”

  “Sure,” Jessi replied. “But I thought you’d want to do it.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I said, getting ready to tell a big fib. “It’s just that Claudia told me you would handle the list.”

  “She said I would handle it?” Jessi repeated, confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  I slumped down under my covers. I couldn’t bear to look Jessi in the eye. “Maybe Claud thinks you’re not doing enough.”

  Jessi stood up indignantly. “I’m doing plenty. Right now I’m going to Logan’s work session to help build the carnival booths, and I’ve already baked two dozen cookies.”

  “Maybe Claudia just wants to take over,” I added. “And doesn’t like the idea of you handing out assignments.”

  Jessi bit her lip thoughtfully. Then she frowned at me. “I doubt it,” she said, “but I’ll talk to her today and see what’s going on.”

  I was relieved when Jessi left. Acting like a jerk was hard work. I decided not to answer the phone for the rest of the day. That way I wouldn’t have to deal with anyone.

  Sunday and Monday dragged by endlessly. On Tuesday night, Mom came into my room. “Mallory, I have a list of phone messages for you that’s a whole page long. Haven’t you been getting them?”

  “Yes, I got them,” I said. “I just haven’t felt like calling anybody back.”

  Mom smoothed her hand over my forehead. “I know you feel cut off from school and baby-sitting, but you shouldn’t shut out your friends. They want to help.”

  I didn’t feel like arguing with Mom, so I agreed to make an effort to return the calls. Then Mom stood up and said, “I hope you don’t mind, but you have some visitors.”

  “Here? Now? But I look terrible.” I hadn’t combed my hair in two days.

  “It’s okay,” Mom said. “They’re friends. They’ll understand.”

  Kristy and Mary Anne peeked around the door. It was great to see their smiling faces. I was all ready to smile back, but then I remembered my plan.

  “Oh,” I said in a dull voice. “It’s just you.”

  Mary Anne looked a little hurt but Kristy marched into the room and gave me a hug. “Hi, Mal. How are you feeling?”
/>   I shrugged. “So-so.”

  Kristy pulled a piece of paper out of the back pocket of her jeans. “First, I’m supposed to tell you that everyone misses you.”

  “Oh, really?” I replied. “I’ve been so busy with my homework that I haven’t had a chance to miss anyone myself.”

  Mary Anne was hanging back by the door. “It’s good that you’ve kept busy,” she said softly. “There’s nothing worse than lying in bed. Some people get very depressed.”

  I wanted to agree with Mary Anne and tell her that I’d never felt so down in my life. That the days felt endless, and I spent the nights tossing and turning because I’d slept too much during the day. Instead I said, “What do I have to be depressed about? I don’t have to go to school and that suits me just fine.”

  Kristy blinked several times in surprise. It’s no secret that I like school and hate to miss even half a day. “Boy, Mal, having mono has really changed you,” she said.

  Mary Anne shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Kristy, maybe we should talk to Mal about the project.”

  “Oh, right.” Kristy consulted her list again. “Jessi and Claud said you were given a list of things to do. Have you been able to arrange for any sponsors?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Did you make any bean bags?”

  I shook my head again. “Uh-uh.”

  “How about cookies?” Mary Anne asked. “Were you able to bake any?”

  “Nope.”

  Finally Kristy said, “Have you done any work on the project?”

  “No.” I took a sip of juice from the glass on my night stand. “I’ve just been too busy. Okay?”

  “Gee, Mallory,” Mary Anne said, “you sound kind of angry. We didn’t mean to make you mad. We just hoped that you’d be able to help us out.”

  “I can’t help anybody but myself,” I replied, folding my arms across my chest. “So go find someone else to do your errands.”

  If I had any doubts about the success of my plan, they were gone. My bad attitude had definitely upset Kristy. And Mary Anne looked as if she were about to burst into tears.

  “Kristy,” Mary Anne murmured, “I think we should leave.”

  “Right.” Kristy stood up stiffly. Then she said in a very cold, very final voice, “We won’t bother you anymore.”